Bean and Gone Café
by Loyal as a Book
Summary: In the corner of a café in Gotham sit two abused vigilantes. One with a broken spine and one with a broken soul. What better way to compare scars and pick at old scabs than to do it over tea and coffee? Post-Under the Red Hood.


This is just a short little experiment. I think the Barbara I've written is closer to the uncertain Barbara of New-52 than Oracle but that's because her series is pretty freakin' awesome and I can't get it out of my head!

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Barbara thanked the barista for her herbal tea and snickerdoodle cookie and wheeled over to her preferred table positioned in the corner of the café. It had a direct line of vision to the front doors and the emergency side exit. Routine was dangerous, all vigilantes knew that, but she just couldn't resist her Sunday afternoon cup of vanilla rooibos tea at the Bean & Gone Café just down the street from her apartment. After a long, busy night of providing information to Batman and Robin, arguing with Nightwing, and having one-sided conversations with Batgirl, even Oracle needs some downtime.

The café was small, quaint and eclectic. It was strategically placed next to a popular bookstore and was a favourite place for readers to crack open their new books. She recognized most patrons. The Vietnam veteran was curled up in the other corner, his hands shook whenever he turned the page of his National Geographic. A group of four young mothers were giggling over their lattes at the window and passing around recent photographs of their children. The middle-aged couple in the center of the room was planning out a trip through South America with stays at various yoga retreats. The owners, an aging husband and wife pair were bustling behind the counter preparing a to-go order for the workers at the bookstore next door. All-in-all, it was an average day at the Bean & Gone Café.

The redhead flipped open her Dan Brown novel and began reading from where she left off. She let herself be consumed by the story and her week of stress and frustration be washed away for a short time. After weeks of endless crime and being on call 24 hours a day nearly seven days a week, every girl, vigilante or not, needed some time off.

Approximately 25 minutes later and two more chapters into her book, the chair across from her was pulled out and a large male body took its place. Barbara had no intention on addressing the unwanted visitor. Guys tended to see a pretty face but scrammed when they noticed she brought her own chair to the table. The redhead ignored the man's presence at her table and turned the page of her book.

"Now that's rude, Barbie," the man murmured. Barbara froze and felt a small trickle of fear slither down her back before she suppressed it. She clenched one of the eskrima sticks hidden under the cushion of her chair. "Is that how you normally treat old friends?"

Barbara slowly closed her book and raised her eyes to meet those of the man across from her. She knew he was back; Alfred had informed her of his resurrection. No longer that aggressive scrawny street kid, he was almost as tall as Bruce with muscles to spare. His posture was loose and lackadaisical but his teal eyes were predatory and sharp hidden beneath hints of amusement and something else. Something she knew all too well but didn't want to acknowledge. She forced her voice to remain steady, "Hello Jason. How are you?"

The boy now turned a young man took a sip of his drink. Barbara noticed that it was a mocha; Jason always did have a sweet tooth. "Oh you know … alive," he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, "better than six feet under I can tell you that."

"You would know better than anyone," Barbara shot back before she even realized what was coming out of her mouth. She resisted slapping a hand over her mouth when the taller man raised an eyebrow. Jason always seemed to bring out the worst in her.

"Ouch …" Jason drawled and slouched back in his chair. She wasn't sure how much of his nonchalance was faked. He was always very good at putting up a front. "Kind of hurtful, Babs. Most formerly dead guys don't like to be reminded of their deaths. Not that I've ever met anyone else who's come back from the dead …."

It was then that she identified that emotion in his eyes that had disturbed her: loneliness. He truly felt completely and utterly alone in the world. It was that all-consuming loneliness that could overwhelm a person and make them do incredibly desperate things to keep it at bay, if just for a short time. It had once threatened to consume her and if not for her father, it probably would have all those years ago.

Jason had been alone. He was alone on the streets, alone in death, alone when he crawled himself out of his own grave. She had noticed when he was Robin that there was a certain distance he kept between himself and others. He had been afraid of getting hurt again. Of course, out of all the people he could have picked, Jason chose to let the emotionally stunted Bruce Wayne into his heart in a desperate move to gain a better father figure in his life. Everyone knows how well that turned out. When Jason died, their relationship was somewhat dysfunctional. Now with his resurrection and subsequent violent war on crime, the father and son relationship was near broken. By looking at the young man across from her, Barbara could see how much it had affected him.

Choosing to ignore the sparkling pink elephant in the room, Barbara chose a different approach, "Why are you here, Jason?"

"As crazy as this may sound, I wasn't actually stalking you," Jason gestured to the rest of the café, "Google told me that this place has the best mocha in Gotham. I am so far impressed."

"I doubt that their hot chocolate is as good as Alfred's," Barbara teased.

"Ha! Nothing can beat Alfred's hot cocoa!"

"He is a master of the kitchen."

Jason snorted, "In everything but waffles."

Barbara shot him a look, "You don't like his waffles?"

"Oh! Don't get me wrong, I'll eat them! But those things tasted like paste."

Barbara shrugged and clenched her hands to stop them from fiddling with her mug, "Maybe they've improved?"

"I doubt it but you can give them a try if you don't believe me," Jason narrowed his eyes at her question, "No one has the guts to tell Alfred when his cooking is bad."

"Why don't you do it then?"

"Ya'know, regardless of widespread belief, I don't hate everyone and everything. I know that I'm not your favourite person and I get it. You all think I'm Arkham crazy. But I never hated you. Nor do I want to break poor Alfred's heart."

Barbara shook her head and leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. "Jason, we don't think that you are crazy. You were murdered at fifteen by a psychopath, resurrected by an unknown power, and tossed in a Lazarus Pit to finish the process. A lesser man would have crumpled under all the pain but you just turned your pain and hurt into rage."

Jason looked amused, "You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"I may have gone through something similar," she gestured towards her paralyzed lower half, "I know that there are many things you have gone through that I haven't, but I may understand you better than you think."

The dark-haired man took another sip of his cooling drink that was nearing empty, "Maybe. Tell me Barbie, what do you think the new Batgirl would say about you? How would she describe your time as Batgirl?"

Barbara wasn't sure where Jason was going with this, "She would probably say that I fought injustice, defended the innocent, and that I developed a legacy that she hoped to be worthy enough to carry. That is the kind of girl she is. She would use fewer words though."

Jason looked, if possible, even more amused.

"Why did you ask?"

"Because I know what everyone says about me," Barbara felt the blood drain from her face, "Robin was everything to me. I put my heart and soul into that uniform. I was determined to live up to the legacy." Jason's face darkened and she watched the anger start to consume him, unable to find the words to stop the rage. "But I never could. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. He'd always compare Dickhead and me, and guess who would come out lacking?"

"It wasn't like that, he loved you-"

Jason spoke over her, "He said he regretted making me Robin, right to my face," that stopped Barbara's defence of Batman. What could she say to that? "I just didn't have _'it'_. He was going to fire me anyways so when I discovered that my biological mother was still alive, well … what did I have to lose? He was going to get rid of me anyways."

"Bruce would have never kicked you out, even if he did take Robin away!"

"Maybe not," Jason shrugged, "but I wouldn't have stayed and be constantly reminded of my failure. I wouldn't have watched as he picked up some new sidekick while I sat on the sidelines. I thought she was in trouble. I was trying to save my mother from that psychopath. Yet, everyone says that it was my fault, that I was responsible for my own death. I wasn't the one swinging that crowbar! I wasn't the one who detonated those bombs! I was just a kid desperate to save the only family I had left." Jason's voice became hoarse at the end.

"We don't consider you responsible for your own death. Even Batman had no idea that your mother was anything but clean."

"But I disobeyed orders," his teal eyes were searing in their intensity. It hurt to look at them but she couldn't turn away, "I know about that little memento he has in the Cave. Is that the one he takes all new recruits to and says 'look closely because this is what happens when you disobey orders'? No one remembers that Dickhead almost died when Two-Face beat him with a baseball bat after he disobeyed orders. Difference is: _He_ didn't save me."

Barbara shook her head in denial, "Your suit is there so he can remember. Bruce needs to be reminded that he lost a son. He considers your death his greatest failure. He doesn't blame you for your death. He blames himself."

"Sure he does," his voice was mocking, "Doesn't the plaque say 'Jason Todd: Good Soldier'? Yeah, I know about the stupid thing and nowhere does it say anything about him losing a son. He failed a partner but uses that thing to tell everyone else about how reckless and disobedient I am. The plaque should read 'Jason Todd: Worst Fucking Robin Ever' since that's how everyone remembers me. It doesn't really matter anymore does it? I'm being reminded of my failings anyways by some little prick flying over rooftops in _my_ uniform anyways!"

"He doesn't have the pixie shorts," Barbara felt that this conversation had spiraled much faster than she predicted it would. She knew Jason would be unstable but she forgot how passionate he used to be.

"That's the other thing," Jason continued, "He put me out to fight criminals dressed like a fucking traffic light! He was the one with all that body armor, why didn't he dress in vibrant primary colours?"

"Oh God!" Barbara buried her face in her hands, "I just had this image of Bruce in the old Robin costume! Not good!"

Jason full out cackled at the thought. It was a laugh eerily reminiscent of his time as Robin. Barbara couldn't help but laugh along with him. It was not good-natured laughter, just a release of tension that had been building up.

Eventually, as their laughter died down, the silence turned awkward. This is Jason, but not the same one she knew. He is so distant, yet also so close. She just needs to offer an olive branch to the broken Robin. "Sometimes when the nightmares become too much, I sit at my computer, hacked into Arkham with _his_ medication file open in front of me," she admitted. No one else knew this, "It would be so easy to just change the numbers. It would look like an accident or a computer error. No one would care how it happened; they would all be relieved that he's dead."

Jason studied her with his teal eyes, "Why don't you?"

"Because the guilt would crush me," she smiled weakly at the former Robin, "I guess I'm too soft-hearted."

Jason shook his head, "You are incredibly strong, Barbie. After what he did to you and your family, anyone else would have given up. Instead, you've taken what you already had and turned it into your greatest weapon," Jason tapped his forehead with a finger, "your mind. I may have been a snot-nosed brat but even I could see that your mind rivaled the Bossman's."

"I guess …" Barbara brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear.

"You know. Batman used his size and muscle. That moron is an acrobatic freak of nature. You, on the other hand, used your ginormous brain to take down guys twice or three times your size. I always admired that. I also know that you could have taken me down with all those knick-knacks and gadgets you've got hidden under your seat if you truly felt threatened. Ever wondered why I made my move when I did? Because I knew that you had left Batman to fend for himself after that girl-Robin died. Let's all be honest here: Dickhead was an idiot for giving you up."

Barbara was confused as to how the conversation suddenly turned towards her, "I don't see how this is relevant. He really needed a break from Gotham-"

"And instead he hooked up with some bombshell alien princess, in the process leaving you and I to fend for ourselves. Now he's hopping from one bed to the next while you're sitting here by yourself."

"Are you trying to tell me something, Boy Wonder?"

"Yeah," Jason smirked, "Either get your act together and tell him how you feel, or push him off a building to save the female population from all those STDs."

Barbara stared at the book on her lap, "I can't."

"To which one?"

"The first, obviously."

"So you're going to push him off a building? Can I watch?"

"Jason! I – I just can't … be with him."

"If not him … I don't have a bunk bed but I've got a queen size perfect for a sleep over. We can make smores and everything."

Barbara jutted out her chin and smirked, "Not on your life ex-Boy Wonder."

"I couldn't resist one more try," Jason's laughter died down and he stared Barbara down across the table. "Y'know, if it's because of your legs, I can help you with that. But I hope you know that idiot has been crazy over you, even with your cool wheels"

"What do you mean you can help me with my legs?" Barbara ignored the rest of his statement.

"I mean," Jason gulped down the rest of his mocha, "I know of a Lazarus Pit that I can get you into. With Ra's dead, Talia's in charge and she likes me. If it healed a brain damaged kid, it can fix your spine easy."

"Jason … I … I don't-"

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as Jason pushed his chair back and stood up. "No need to answer now. Just know that the offer is open and _you_ are the only one I'm willing to share it with. Life hasn't been fair to either of us. I have another chance and I know that you would prefer to be in the field rather than trapped in that chair. Think about it. I know you want to fly again."

Barbara squeezed her thighs with her hands, she could feel nothing.

"Anyways, see ya around Barbie. Don't work too hard." Jason gave a jaunty wave and strode out of the café. Barbara's eyes followed his black leather jacket to a black motorcycle parked across the street and watched as he shoved something in his mouth before putting on his red motorcycle helmet. Her tea sat stone cold next to an empty plate where her half-eaten cookie once lay. She couldn't help thinking, as the former Robin revved his engine and drove away, that Alfred and Bruce were wrong. Death hadn't changed him all that much. Jason Todd is still a deceptive, manipulative little shit.

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I used Gotham Knights #43 as my main reference for interaction between Jason and Barbara since they never worked together before Death in the Family. Then Jason died.

Let me know what you guys think. This was my first shot at trying to get Barbara's character.


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